I don't own A song of Ice and Fire, or Game of Thrones, they belong to George R.R Martin

Its warm out today...a southerner would still say its freezing...it is. But the winter's touch is a soft caress of a lovers hand across his cheek rather than the harsh slap of cold, bony fingers.

The Wall has lifted him, lifted him so high he could see farther than anyone else could hope to. It was warm out today...the haze of fog was gone now for this brief few hours that spanned mid day. It let him see, out far beyond, to the great White Tree, to the leagues and leagues of dark woodland that made of the haunted forest. Perhaps- he fancied -he could see so far as to the Fist.

Yes, even to that wretched cleft of mountain, turned fortress where his brothers...his men now...all fought and died for the first time in six thousand years against the foe they'd been created to combat against.

They were still out there, so many of them. More than he'd ever dreamed. They brought with them a fell cold that froze men in their tracks, their strength inhuman. They killed men, only to bring them back, every death adding to their number and decreasing theirs.

White walkers.

The armies of Westeros, what few men remained after the sheer slaughter that had ripped apart, and drained the strength of all seven kingdoms had been marshaled and marched north.

But men didn't matter, the living could not fight against the dead...they needed fire, they needed weapons of dragon glass one arrow of every hundred, one dagger shared between ten men would never suffice...could never suffice. Not when the arrows missed, when the dagger shattered, when the fires burnt out, or worse yet, the tinder was so wet they could not light them at all.

They could not pass the wall. Old magic was here Melissandre assured, but every day, with the encroaching cold...with the fingers of winter tugging more insistently with each passing hour the magics would fade and then...then they would see the Long Night again.

His breath fogged in front of his mouth and Jon found his hand vanishing into Ghost's fur. The ever silent wolf leaned into his touch, sitting, he was almost to Jon's chest. He might yet grow more. The Dire Wolf was a fearsome beast.

He heard their footsteps coming. He didn't even have to turn to know they were.

"Your Grace." He greeted courteously, turning around. They said courtesy was a lady's armor. Jon had learned it could fit men just as well. He turned and found himself staring at none other than the last Targaryens. Daenerys and Aegon, Daughter of Aerys and son of Rhaegar respectively.

Aegon's face was solemn and grim, he looked at him as though he was about to receive or give ill news. He was standing there in the white robe of his aunt's Queens Guard. Unlike the others, though he would be allowed to marry. As they stood now...the Targaryen's numbered only...two.

Daenerys, her's was the face of a woman trying to hold together a rapidly crumbling heart in the weak grip of desperate hope.

"Jon..." For all her sadness, her voice was steady, every bit the queen standing there in her white lion pelt, her silver hair whipping in the wind. A few strands brushed across her face.

"Your Grace should leave now while its warm...it won't be possible for you to fly from this place in a few more hours." He cut her off quickly, raising his voice to carry over what he knew she would say.

"Come with us." She continued on, just as stubbornly, demanding what she'd been demanding since she'd arrived...since it became apparent that they would loose here.

He answered as well as he'd always answered. "My place is here."

"The. Wall. Will. Fall. Jon." She punched out every word, as though trying to hammer it into his skull. "The Night's watch, all of your men are going to die here unless you leave this place."

Jon drew himself up, standing straighter, the black of his clothes a sharp contrast to the white of the snow and Ghost's fur. He was a full head taller than her, and half a head taller than Aegon as well.

Must be the Stark in him.

"Night gathers, and now my watch begins." He swears the words again, watching her face fall, watches as Aegon averts his eyes. "It shall not end-"The word is delivered like a blow. "-until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory." The hope fades ever more quickly. And he sees her heart crumbling before his eyes. He continues speaking. "I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all nights to come."

"That is my vow your grace." He finishes after a moment of lengthy silence. "And I will keep it."

She looks down, and she no longer sees the queen, but a small girl, one who had to grow too fast and he can relate to that. Even so, his face is as cold as the ice beneath their feet.

"You and Aegon are the last family I have left Jon..."

"I do not know you well Jon." Aegon speaks up for the first time since this exchange began. "But I wish to have the opportunity...if our father was alive he would want us to stand side by side as a family."

Jon stared at them, his face neither showing appreciation nor displeasure.

Danny stepped forward her pale, warm hands cupping his cheeks, tilting his head down to look at her.

"Jon...you are a Targaryen...please come with us..."

Finally he spoke; his hands rising to gently, but firmly, draw her hands away from his face. For the briefest of instants his eyes softened, that impenetrable wall of ice melting away for only a moment before it reasserted itself when he politely kissed her hand.

"Your grace is kind. Your love is received gladly, and returned just so...but I have a Father. His name is Eddard Stark. Lord of Winterfell. Warden of the North. Son of Rickard Stark. My mother is the woman he promised to speak to me about when next we meet. I will wait patiently for that day."

"You're going to die."

"I already did once." He wasn't sure whether to smile of frown. Neither was she for that matter.

She reached up again, this time bringing his head down so she could kiss the crown of dark curls atop his head. "I do not know." She muttered against him. "If you are the greatest of us...or the most foolish."

He pulled away, looking down at her face again, the streak of tears was there, but these were fading things now. There was a gentle smile on her face.

It was said she was the most beautiful woman in Westeros, he might have agreed. But his vision of beauty was different from most:the silver hair was replaced by fire, her teeth just as white but slightly more crooked, her eyes no longer amethyst but jade, her angular face rounder.

Most would claim Jon Snow knew nothing of Beauty.

Finally she stepped back. No mater how fiercely the dragon flapped its wings or breathed its fiery wrath...the wall would not move to it.

"I'll come back..." She promised...I will sail for Valyria, I will pull every ore and stone from the ground for the weapons and bring back Khalasar, Unsullied, Mercenaries from Pentos, Bravos, I will call all the Kingdoms for more armies." She promised and Jon knew she meant every word. "I will be back Jon."

He nodded, and the White Queen immediately left the Black Crow.

Jon breathed through his nostrils, realizing it was colder now.

He turned back to the sight beyond the wall.

The Fog was creeping back.

Winter was coming.

And he would be right here to greet it with Ghost at his side.

Hey readers. I kinda made this one shot because I'm sick of most of the stories for this genre. 50 percent belong in some way shape or form to Sansa, (Don't hate her but not really getting the fixation writers/readers seem to have with her either)

The few that involve Robb Stark revolve around him with Jeyne Westerling, (Again, not a hater but when 9 out of the 10 is about Jeyne and him and the other is either a Yaoi or just so bad you can't look at it without your eyes bleeding it gets irritating. Don't people realize all the potential that can be put into a story by having Robb Stark mary someone else? Anybody else? Think of Rob with Arianne Martell, or Margary Tyrell, or Asha Greyjoy.

Worse yet the few with Jon Snow are either Yaoi, borderline Incest (Arya/Sansa pairing), Outright Incest (Daenerys) or some other form of weird stuff. Ygritte doesn't even appear in the character selection roster, what's up with that?

Not only that, in most fics they find some way to wheedle Jon out of his Vows to the Night's watch so he can get his "Happily ever after" Practically destroying what I find best about the character that is "Jon" which is a man who, in seeking to emulate his father and his honorable ways not only succeeds but becomes a better man than his father (Ned) was. So Jon snow turning around and rationalizing his way out of his vows doesn't fit him in my opinion at all.

And whenever Danny shows up in a fic everyone in it is practically throwing themselves at her feet. I can respect some of the things she's done like most characters, but like most characters I can also say she's been a bit of an idiot in some instances so I'm not seeing the fixation on her and the apparent Hero Worship fans have for her

So yea, I'm starting this series of Oneshots (Unrelated unless expressly stated otherwise) so I can put some of my own little ideas down for this unbelievably great universe George Martin has created.